After Despair
by jswifteagle
Summary: A group of pre-Lightning Thief demigods struggling to make it to Camp Halfblood under harrowing conditions. Short one-shot. Original characters. Please, critique this work. Help me to grow as an author.


After Despair

I quickly glanced back as I hurried away from the burning rubble of the small airplane. This was one of those moments where you begin to question the purpose of life. Sometimes, it just seems so pointless. I mean, we're all just going to die anyways. We fight to survive, but we'll always lose in the end. I guess these thoughts are a bit unusual for a thirteen-year-old, but I'm a fairly unusual guy. Thinking back on what's happened in the past few hours, nothing in my life will ever be usual again.

It all started with the stupid monster girls. I was at the mall looking for a friend when I noticed this giggling gaggle of teenage girls that seemed to be looking right at me. Slightly unsettled, I made my way down the hall and into a side corridor, where I sat down on one of the wooden benches placed in the middle of the hallway. Sitting there, I watched the stylishly dressed girls hurry around the corner and edge closer to my bench. With growing concern, I decided to confront them. Mustering my courage, I strode up to the group.

"Why are you following me?" I asked with slight annoyance.

The girls giggled maddeningly as one of them stepped forward and said,

"We were just wondering what your name was."

My full name was Evander Valerius Aurelium Ganderic, and I go by Evan, but I wasn't planning on telling these creepy girls any of that. Unsure of what to say, I ended up saying the first names that came to my head.

"My name is Elvis McCartney,"

Why on earth did I have to pick the worst fake name under the sun? The girls giggled some more as the leader of the pack rolled her eyes and said,

"Yeah, sure. A big fan of music, are you, kid?"

I was, in fact, but I wasn't about to tell her that.

"Hmmm. Do you like archery, too? Or maybe first aid type stuff?"

The girl was beginning to get super creepy. She had pretty much just described all of my hobbies. I am a total music geek, and I've written a few songs on my electric gituar, and while I enjoy most sports, I'm totally obsessed with archery and I got my CPR and First Aid certification last summer in Boy Scouts.

"Have you guys been stalking me or something?" I asked, with panic wavering my voice.

"You might call it intuition, buddy. How 'bout you take a nice little trip with us?" The girls were now nearly surrounding me, and I knew it was time to get out of there. Looking around desperately for a bystander who might be willing to help, I saw that this area of the mall had become completely deserted. I began to freak out as the girls' flawless smiles became nasty, fanged leers, their skin became more pale and stretched, and their eyes began to glow an ugly blood red.

"Come with us," they hissed, "We won't hurt you!"

"Evan! Look out!" a familiar voice cried. The demonic teenagers whirled around to glare at Florian Alderleaf, a scrawny guy I had befriended at Boy Scouts. He was a vegetarian, and he walked kind of funny, so a bunch of kids made fun of him, but he was a good friend. The freaky girls hissed at him, and he shouted "Duck!" to me. I did as he said, and I heard the girls shriek as they disintegrated before my eyes. They burst into sickly green plumes of fire and disappeared. One of the girl's flaming purses landed on my arm and singed my exposed skin.

I looked at Florian in amazement as he tucked what looked like a steampunk water pistol into his jeans. "Are you okay?" he asked, hobbling over to where I lay on the floor, crumpled in a pile of powdery sulfuric ash.

"M-my arm got burnt, and I am super freaked out because I was almost mugged by a bunch of teenage demon girls, but other than that, I'm just peachy. What did you do to them?"

"I sprayed those stupid empousai with a bit of greek fire, but we need to heal that burn. Here, pour some nectar on it."

I'm not sure what he rubbed on my burn, but it healed instantly. Looking surprised, Florian said, "That's odd, that was a second-degree burn, and it's completely healed. It would usually take an hour or so... Wait. I'm so stupid! I mean, I knew you weren't a mortal, but I should have seen it sooner. The archery, the music, the first aid, you're obviously a son of Apollo!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're telling me that the dad I've never known is a Greek god? I mean, some kids have made fun of my mom for being single, but come on! Not cool, man."

"I know it's a lot to take in, so calm down. Here, come with me to a quiet place."

Florian led me with halting steps to a maintenance area. He pulled a harmonica out of his pocket and played a strange, almost dissonant, tune. The door shuddered, clicked, then glowed faintly.

"Alright, we won't be disturbed now. What I'm about to tell you will be crazy, but it's true. Everything in Greek mythology, the monsters, the heroes, the gods, it's all true. The things in the myths happened then, and they still happen today. Things have changed a bit, but monsters regenerate, and heroes are needed to keep them from destroying the world. That's where you come in. The gods occasionally hook up with mortals. The result is demigods. Superhumans who fight the monsters. Monsters can't stand demigods. There are thousands of years of hate that the monsters want to take out on any demigods they sense. My people try to help young demigods by getting them to a safe place, Camp Halfblood, in New York. At Camp Halfblood, you'll be able to train in safety and practice your skills. Some demigods never learn who their godly parent is, but with you, it's pretty clear. You love music, you're an incredible archer, you have a good intuition, you're good at sports, and you are great at treating injuries. Apollo is god of music, archery, prophecy, athleticism, and healing. He's also god of the sun. You love being in the sun, you are incredibly tan, and your hair shines like gold. Tell me, do you feel stronger when the sun is shining bright? When all the other kids are exhausted and sweaty from the scorching summer sun, do you feel more energised?"

Feeling extremely overwhelmed, I realized that he was right, I _did_ feel more powerful when the sun was bright. I get tired very quickly after sunset, and during the winter months, it's a struggle to stay up late.

"I guess so, but how? How could this be true? I am so confused. Who are you?"

"I am a satyr, part goat, part human," he said casually as he removed his jeans to reveal shaggy hindquarters. "We must hurry," he said, "There is another demigod nearby that I also want to accompany to Camp Halfblood."

"Wait a second. We're going to New York? Now? What about my mom?"

"She already knows. She is letting you go because it is in your best interest. Now, come, we must make haste," Suddenly, Florian froze and sniffed the air. "Monsters," he whispered. "They're close, and they're after us. Let's go!"

After putting his pants back on and undoing whatever door-locking charm he had put on the door, Florian hurried me to a small, beat up moped resting in the mall's parking lot. Behind us, I heard a snarl as an enormous demonic dog raced towards us. "Hop on," Florian said with a grin, "Things are about to get fun." As soon as I was on, Florian had the battered bike swerving at high speed through the parking lot and down the street. I thought we had shaken the giant canine, but when I looked back, it was right behind us. With a worried look, Florian handed me his crazy greek fire squirt gun, hollering, "There's not too much left, but there's enough to take out that hellhound!" Taking care not to drop the weapon, I twisted around and pulled the trigger. Fiery green liquid shot out from the nozzle, hitting the hellhound right in its face. I watched as it crumbled into a heap of ash, fading into the distance.

Florian then pulled the moped into a dark alley. It led to a cement courtyard behind a run down auto repair shop. The space was littered with old machine parts and oil cans. Propping the moped against an old chain link fence, Florian led me to a small wooden storage shed. He knocked on the door in a certain rythym, and it creaked open. I followed him into the shadowy shack.

"Evan, this is Horatius Peregrinario Lannian, son of Hermes."

"Call me Horace. I can't stand those crazy Greco-Roman names my mom gave me just because I'm a demigod."

"I know what you mean. Who would ever name their child 'Evander Valerius Aurelium'? It seems cruel to me." Florian held up his hand.

"Guys, we need to get moving. The sooner we get to Camp Halfblood, the better. Horace, what weapons have you managed to scrounge up for us?"

"It just so happens that I was able to borrow five knives, a sword, a greek fire grenade, and this cool celestial bronze tazer from some random cyclops' lair. He nearly caught me, but I escaped."

"Evan, because Horace's dad is Hermes, he is an incredible thief and one of the quickest fellows you'll ever meet. He's also quite good with first aid, though I think that Apollo beats out Hermes in that area."

"Apollo, huh? You a good archer?"

"Fairly good."

"Well then, I've got just the thing for you. I picked up this nifty magic collapsible bow a week ago when I raided a drakon's cave in the sewers. See, it shrinks into this leather bracelet and you just wear it around your wrist, but when you need it, give it a tug, and voila! full sized functional bow. It has this crazy magic self-loading system, but unfortunately, we only have six arrows to load it with. They're really cool, though! They explode upon contact. I think they have some advanced kind of greek fire in them."

"All this chatting is nice, guys, but we really need to go," Florian interrupted agitatedly. "Something is coming, and it's not happy." We felt the ground rumble as a monstrous voice roared,

"Filthy, thieving half-blood! I'll smash you!" We rushed out of the door just as a nine-foot cyclops smashed through the wall of the shed. "You will die!" the cyclops screamed. Horace ran to the back door of the garage and after a slight struggle with the handle, hurried us through and slammed the door just as the cyclops reached it. Florian pulled out his harmonica to seal the door, but the cyclops smashed through it before he could finish. We rushed past tool benches and cars on lifts till we were in the parking lot.

Horace went over to an old truck and jimmied the lock in a blink. Florian and I hopped in while Horace convinced the car to start without its keys. Just as the cyclops reached us, the pickup roared to life, and Horace floored the gas. Unfortunately, the cyclops was latched on to the back of the truck. Florian leaned out the window and chucked two of Horace's daggers at the giant. One of the knives completely missed the cyclops, but the other caught him on the side of the head. Roaring with indignation, the cyclops began trying to smash our truck. Horace was swerving wildly, but it seemed to have no effect on the raging giant. The rear window of the truck was open, so I took my newly acquired bow and shot a metallic arrow at the beast. There was a large flash as the arrow blew the cyclops apart.

Florian directed Horace to the nearest airport so we could book a quick flight to New York. Thanks to Horace's slick tongue and sticky fingers, we found ourselves with tickets to board the next flight to the Big Apple. When we went through security, I was amazed that none of the guards noticed the weapons that our bags were loaded with, despite the reassurances Florian gave me that a magical agent called the Mist hides supernatural things from the eyes of mortals, including celestial bronze weaponry.

While we were waiting to board at our gate, I noticed a young girl seemingly pop out of nowhere. She looked rather unsettled and frightened, and very grim. I sauntered over to her and asked, "How did you do that? Who are you?" She replied with a fierce look, saying,

"If you're a monster, don't even think about messing with me, because I will zap you quicker than you can blink!"

"Whoa! I'm no monster. I'm like you. I fight the monsters with my friends over there. Do you know about the... gods?" The girl's eyes widened, and she said,

"Yes. I didn't believe it at first, but how can I not? A man I met a few weeks ago told me stories of the gods and the heroes. He helped me learn how to use my gift."

"Your gift? You mean popping out of nowhere?"

"Oh, I can do more than just shadow travel. I can fool you into thinking I'm not here, or I'm something else. I can change things with my mind. Occasionally, I will get an odd sense that I'm supposed to go somewhere or do something. It always leads me someplace good. Last time, the call brought me to the wise man who taught me to use my gifts better. I can sometimes make fireballs or lightning. It's really cool, but it also makes me really tired. I just got this picture in my head of this random airport, so I followed the call and shadow travelled here, and here you are. Surely I'm meant to join you and your monster-fighting friends. By the way, I only told you about my gifts because the odd feeling directed me to confide in you. The old man told me to keep them a secret. I'm trusting you."

"Okay, I get it. What's your name, and how old are you, Miss Gifted?"

"I'm ten years old, and my name is Phoebe. What's yours?"

"Call me Evan. I'm nearly fourteen. Come and meet the rest of the team. Hey, Florian, Horace, this is Phoebe. She's a ten-year-old demigod on the run. She says her intuition told her to come here, so she did. I also feel that it's right that she comes with us."

"How will we get her on the plane? She has no ticket. Speaking of which, how did she even get through security?"

"I do too have a ticket! Look, it's right here." At that, Phoebe pulled a folded airplane ticket out of her pocket. I glanced at it surprisedly. She had only just materialized in the airport. The only way she could have gotten a ticket was... if she was using her gift to create a ticket. Phoebe gave me a quick warning look to indicate that I was not to question the origin of the dubiously acquired slip of paper.

"Wow, Phoebe! That's quite an intuition you have," remarked Florian, rather impressed, "Maybe your dad's Apollo, like Evan. That could explain the almost supernatural guidance and foresight. Or maybe Athena. She's the cleverest one on Olympus. She has been known to lead her children to the wisest path. All her kids seem to be quite intuitive."

"Maybe, and maybe not. I'm sure I'll learn in time. Where are we headed?"

"Camp Halfblood in New York. If we can make it there, you guys will learn how to strengthen your gifts and defeat even the strongest monsters." As Florian said this, a woman announced that our flight to New York was now boarding.

The plane was fairly small; our group of four occupied an entire row. Once we had taken off and the fasten seat belt sign disappeared, a flight attendant wearing too much makeup slunk down the aisle pushing the complimentary beverage cart. The woman gave our group an untrustworthy glance and with a snobby sniff, took our orders.

"Now, what drinksss would y'all be interested in?" inquired the lady in a manufactured saccharine tone. "We have orange juice, apple juice, ginger ale," Suddenly, the flight attendant got an odd glint in her eye. " -and chilled chimaera venom. Take your pick!"

Horace glanced at Florian in surprise just as Phoebe began screaming, "Snake lady! Snake lady!"

Noticing the woman's face becoming more and more draconian, with her pupils shrinking to slits, her teeth becoming fang-like, and her tongue becoming elongated and forked, Horace pulled a celestial bronze dagger from his backpack and swiped at her neck. With a spiteful hiss, the Scythian dracaena recoiled just beyond the blade's reach. The surrounding mortals were watching our interactions with the dragon-woman with growing panic. The fanged flight attendant stabbed at Horace with a pair of surprisingly sharp ice tongs. He parried the tongs with his knife, but was unable to dodge the partially scaly fist that slammed into his head, knocking him unconscious. While this had been happening, two more snakey flight attendants slithered down the aisle. Literally, each leg was a snake, with fangs and beady eyes peering out each high heel.

"What have we got here?" One asked patronizingly.

"It looksss like we need to take care of a handful of no-good troublemakersss."

"Passsengers, please calm down. My sisssstersss and I will deal with thiss disssturbance. Please, remain ssseated."

Suddenly, Florian shouted, "Demigods, spread out through the plane! Protect each other, and fight hard! Now, go!" Instantly, Phoebe, Florian, and I scrabbled to free ourselves from our seat belts and crawled over a bunch of disgruntled mortals to escape the deadly sharp nails of the dracaenae. Florian kept one of the women busy by playing a tune on his harmonica that caused nearby passengers' headphone cords, necklaces, and shoelaces to twist around her, like some kind of devilish vines. The lady lashed out occasionally, but was generally overcome by her bonds.

I ran towards the front of the plane, with the first dracaena chasing right behind me with the drink cart. I ducked into one of the claustrophobia-inducing lavatories to escape being flattened. I locked the door to stall her as long as possible while I pulled Horace's 'borrowed' celestial bronze taser out of my pocket. I knew better than to try to destroy her with one of my exploding arrows. That would doom us all. As the door gave way and the she-dragon lurched towards me, I pulled the shiny trigger on the odd mechanical device.

Let's just say that when someone thought they needed to put some of Zeus' lightning into a magical bronze launching device with some extra-strengh music of Apollo and use greek fire as the propellant to taze something, that something must have been a LOT stronger than a dracaenae flight attendant. In fact, I think that gun would have tazed Zeus himself.

When you combust something that immensely powerful in a small, pressurized metal tube shooting through the sky, you are not going to get good results. By some miracle, I hadn't blown the plane to bits, but I had managed to pretty much destroy the cockpit, knocking the pilot and the copilot out cold. Somewhere, I must have smashed a hole in the plane, because the yellow oxygen masks dropped from the overhead compartments as the mortals began screaming things about terrorist attacks. I could feel that the air had become so thin and cold, it was nearly unbreathable. For all the damage that just occurred, I might as well have used an exploding arrow. I had definitely vaporized my dracaena, and apparently the other ones had been vanquished as well. After a few breaths from one of the emergency oxygen masks, Florian played what he later told me was a very tricky and complex Mending Melody combined with a Protective Polka and a Fresh Breeze Folk Tune on his incredibly useful and now fairly beaten-up harmonica. He had fixed the worst of the problems, but had spent much of his energy in the process. Mumbling something about parachutes, he sunk into one of the empty seats. Suddenly, the plane began to lurch more violently than it had been doing. Muffled screams rose up from the rows of masked passengers as the plane tilted alarmingly to one side. We were losing altitude fast.

"Horace, wake up! We need you to land this plane."

"The plane? I've never flown a plane before! You've got to be loony!"

"You're a son of Hermes, god of travel. If anyone can land this plane, you can."

With a worried look on his face, Horace limped his way up the aisle to the ruined cockpit. After a few minutes of anxious turbulence, Horace hollered that he could stabilize the plane for ten minutes, then attempt a crash landing. With some concern, he added that the plane was several thousand pounds too heavy to hope for a decent chance of survival. Turning to Phoebe, I silently asked her if she could work her "shadow travel" magic on a planeful of people. Knowing that this was a life-or-death situation, she gave a quiet nod. Curling up on her seat to concentrate, she yelled,

"Horace, I need you to dim all the cabin lights you can. I might be able to get rid of the mortals so we can safely land this thing."

"Sure thing, milady." Within a few seconds, nearly every light had gone off, with the windows as the only source of light. The entire cabin was thrown into deep shadow.

Phoebe screwed her eyes shut, focusing an immense amount of energy on the rather mysterious shadow travel. Phoebe was radiating waves of eerie arcane power that somehow leeched the light from the windows. "Tell Horace to get as low to the ground as possible." Phoebe said in a strained whisper. I relayed the message, and by the time the plane had dropped as low as possible without it being torn apart, the shadows surrounding the passengers were so thick they were nearly solid. The darkness rippled and swam before my eyes, overwhelming me. Suddenly, the thick shadow melted away along with all of the passengers. I glanced at Phoebe and saw that she was contorted on the ground, faintly twitching, and paler than snow. I lifted her into my arms and tried to find a pulse in her cold body. It was there, but very faint. I pulled some of Florian's healing liquid, nectar, out of his bag. I carefully poured some of the sweet-smelling elixir down Phoebe's throat.

"Whatever just happened back there was exactly what needed to happen." Horace shouted back to us. "I think I can land this thing safe enough, but just in case, can Florian play some sort of force field tune on his harmonica?" I replied by saying,

"I don't think so. He's pretty spent. He's conscious, but exhausted. Phoebe literally just nearly killed herself, but how could she not have? She teleported dozens of people with nothing but her mind."

"That's incredible!" responded Horace. "Which god is her parent? Her powers are freakishly strong. I have never seen a demigod with that much power, much less, a ten-year-old!"

Suddenly, the plane filled with green Mist, and a deep, powerful woman's voice rang throughout the cabin.

"_You have seen the might of Hecate. No more will her children be overlooked. Instead, they will be respected, treated as equals to those born of even the highest gods. Phoebe Miriam Lancaster, you will begin an age of respect and honor, where the minor gods and the major gods are united. Together, we will stand strong. All gods and all demigods, hand in hand, to-"_

Phoebe cut off her mother's voice, screaming, "Look out! They want to destroy-"

In an instant, the plane disintegrated into a thousand pieces of burning rubble.

Falling, falling.

A scream, a sob.

Blink.

Opening my eyes, I find myself a few yards from the wreckage of the airplane. My clothes are burnt and my bones ache, but other than that, I'm unharmed. How can that be? I was in the plane when it blew up. Understanding dawned on me like some divine message. Phoebe had given the last of her essence to get us to safety. Us? Safety? Glancing around, I see an unconscious Florian and a weeping Horace. We are near the summit of a hill topped with an enormous pine tree. Where are we? With a groan, Florian sits up. Looking around, I can see that he understands what happened too. But then, he perks up, seeming to recognise the terrain around us.

"Camp Halfblood! She used up her last bit of power to get us safely to Camp Halfblood. Bless that dear girl. May she be honored and long remembered. Phoebe Miriam Lancaster, daughter of Hecate, powerful demigod and great friend. Died to protect the friends she had just met. May the waters of Elysium heal her pain."

Standing to his hooves, Florian gestured for me and Horace to follow him up the hill. Walking away from the rubble of the airplane, I felt depressed at first, despair filling my soul like poison, but then I found myself filled with hope. Hope for a better future. A future of trust, unity, respect, and peace. Hope for the future Phoebe had given her life for.


End file.
